


Eating Under the Rain

by Quiet_Shadow



Series: Summer Days Prompts [21]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Crushes, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Genderbending, Genderswap, Male Hermione Granger, Picnics, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: Only wizards could hope to have a picnic on a rainy day without getting wet themselves; to Henrietta 'Harry' Potter, it made magic worth it.





	Eating Under the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Originally planned as a short fic for a Valentine Day challenge for the theme 'rained out picnic', February turned so busy I had to drop the idea until I decided to pick it up again as part of the summer challenge.

There were times when Henrietta ‘Hattie’ (or sometimes ‘Harry’, though only her closest friends referred to her as such thank to one Luna Lovegood who took a look at the black-haired girl and decided she looked like an ‘Harry’, whatever that meant) Potter thought magic was more of an hassle than it was worth.

Oh, don’t get her wrong. She very much liked magic in itself and she absolutely adored flying on her broom; it gave her a feeling of freedom she had never encountered before coming to Hogwarts.

But sadly, the Wizarding world came with its lot of problem as well: Dark Lords bend on murdering her, mean-spirited and vindictive Potions Masters who seemed to resent her very existence for no reason that she was the daughter/goddaughter of his childhood nemesis/bullies (which was petty, because it wasn’t Harry’s fault in the first place, but Snape seemed to be the kind who only dealt with absolutes when it came to emotions such as love or hatred), pseudo-journalists who loved to drag her name through the mud when they weren’t redacting over-the-moon articles about how great a witch she was, Ministry officials looking at her to be either a scapegoat or a puppet to serve their political agenda, Headmasters with twinkling eyes whose intents she had stopped to try and guess least she’d get a headache,…

Yeah. The Wizarding world had a lot of downsides.

Since recently, Harry was tempted to add ‘teenage boys suddenly wanting to date her’ to the list.

They baffled and scared her at the same time. Why did they suddenly decide to pay attention to her now when not one of them had ever taken the time to notice or speak with her before? Was it because she was famous and they wanted to become famous themselves by extension in dating them? Did they want to get a thrill out of dating someone who was on the hit-list of Voldemort? Or did they fancy themselves as some kind of hero who could and would protect her and win her hand in reward, like in some Muggle fairytale?

Not once did she consider that maybe they had started to find her attractive – and if someone had pointed it out to her, she would have scoffed and stared at them in disbelief because Harry was anything but a pretty girl. The true beauty in among the Fifth Year Gryffindor was generally admitted to be Lavender Brown, with Fay Dunbar considered a close second. Next to them, Harry was nothing special – and she would hardly call herself pretty.

Of course, one could argue her views on the matter were skewed to begin with. Aunt Petunia has always been dismissive of her niece’s appearance, calling her hair a natural rat nest, her poor vision a nightmare and her thinness very unattractive (and never mind Aunt Petunia was no heavy weight herself; her own son had to weight thrice her own’s at the very least). Paradoxically, every person who had ever mentioned Lily Potter in conversation had made a point of stating how pretty she had been – but rarely pointed out the resemblance between mother and daughter (most of them stopped at the black, messy hair and the glasses and the smile and thought ‘James’ when for the rest, she was very much her mother’s daughter).

But what did people see now? True, many saw the Girl Who Lived moniker first and were attracted it, but other had eyes to see. When she had entered Hogwarts at the age of 11, Henrietta Potter could have been compared to an ugly duckling. She had been almost painfully skinny, her hair had been cropped unevenly, accenting the messy side, and her too big, large round glasses held together by spell-o gave her an upkeep appearance that didn’t warrant a second look (except by Professor Snape of all people, who couldn’t help but think of his own childhood and felt both elation at the idea Potter’s child had to share the misery and horror at the thought Lily’s child would had to experience it).

But Henrietta Potter wasn’t 11 anymore. She had filled up nicely in those inter-between years. Her hair had gotten longer and were better cut and cared for (as if Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil wouldn’t have gotten her beauty tips or made it into their personal mission to groom their obviously clueless roommate into being suitably girly, if only for appearances’ sake), her glasses had been exchanged for a more discreet model that didn’t make her look like a clone of Professor Trelawney and well, she had gotten taller and more curvy – and rather good-looking too.

But that, Harry didn’t see and she could only complain about the unwanted, unwarranted attention to her friends while she dodged students looking to ask her out in the corridors and kept checking her food and drinks for Love Potions (and there had been quite a few, enough that she had started working up an official complaint to hand to Professor McGonagall). There had been a rising spike of them lately – perhaps because Valentine’s Day was coming.

“You shouldn’t wait to go see Professor McGonagall – or even better, Professor Dumbledore,” Heath Granger advised as he handed her a sandwich. “It’s a very serious problem!”

Harry shrugged noncommittally as she took the offered bread. “I know, I know. But if I do it now, you know I’m going to get in trouble with, well, everyone.”

“Everyone should know better than to try to drug someone,” Heath claimed, eyes narrowed, and Harry felt a weight lift from her chest as the curly brown-haired boy started to go on a rant about the wrongness of it all and the need to amend the law to make Love Potions illegal. That’s why she liked Heath. Oh, she liked Ron too – Ron who was the first friend her age she made (Hagrid remained the first), Ron who made her smile and opened his house for her in summer, Ron who got into a fist-fight with Malfoy to defend her honor, who backed her when she got into danger,… -- but Heath always seemed to know her better, somehow.

Ron felt strong and warm and friendly. Heath felt safe and quiet and caring.

The bushy-haired boy always knew when she needed a break from, well, everyone else. Like today; if they had eaten in the Grand Hall, Harry would have been likely to punch someone before the end of the meal, and Heath had guessed.

Why else would he have proposed Harry to have picnic on a rainy winter day, really?

For a Muggle, it would have been a bad idea, but for a witch and a wizard…

Harry bit into the sandwich, glancing in satisfaction at the transparent walls of the large bubble Heath had conjured to protect them of the rain (“Magic is forbidden in the corridor, but not on the grounds, no matter what Filch says. I got ‘Hogwarts: a History’ and the school rules to back me if needed.”) coupled with warming Charms that made their little corner of the ground a nice, comfy little haven.

“It’s good,” she commented, licking her lips. “Did you ask the House Elves to make them?”

“Certainly not!” Heath looked affronted. “I made them myself!”

“And they let you?” Harry asked, amazed; the Elves were never happy to let the control of the kitchen to anyone, something she was familiar with.

Heath nodded, looking satisfied. Amazing boy, she thought fondly as she watched the rain drip over the bubble. She was safe, warm and in good company, Harry thought.

Moments like that made the magic worth it.


End file.
